


No Heartbreak for the Cowardly

by Petenshi



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petenshi/pseuds/Petenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left to his own devices, Trowa tries to sort out what he's suppose to do and who he's suppose to be after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Heartbreak for the Cowardly

Cathy kicked him out of the circus. 

According to her, he was using it as a crutch and an excuse. According to Cathy he needed to get out and see what the rest of the world was like. What it was like to be a person and not a performer.

He wasn’t even sure what that meant. He suspected she was upset about his name; he refused to go by anything other than Trowa Barton. Not for sentimental reasons, it was a stolen name and the original owner had been a jerk, it just seemed to fit him now. He’d become a new Trowa Barton, a different one that fit only him. And if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he remembered how it’d sounded when Quatre said it, like it was something worth remembering.

So they agreed to disagree but she still left him behind when they moved off for the next show.

Doctors probably would say he was suffering from PTSD. Maybe he was, though Trowa had far too much control to go around flinching at cars backfiring or pulling his gun on innocent bystanders.

However, he was mighty tempted to pull it on annoying people who were confusing the fuck out of him.

“I’ve got a friend who styles his hair like yours but it always looks like he’s trying, you know? Can I take your pic? I want to instagram it to him to show him how it’s done.”

Trowa would be the first to admit, he wasn’t always the most patient person. Everybody had his or her line, though, right? And it wasn’t overreacting if some strange guy in his younger brother’s jeans came up and tried to touch your hair while his friend in the weird knitted hat took a picture. 

Totally not his fault. Totally justified. That’s what he’d tell the cops anyway when they came to ask why he’d punched skinny jeans in the nose and then smashed hat guy’s phone.

Actually, he didn’t really want to explain his behavior to the cops. So he ran.

“Dude, were you chased out of a bookstore by a bunch of hipsters?” Duo shook his head and laughed. “You _suck_ at this rehabilitation thing.”

“I’m seriously regretting calling you now.” Trowa slouched in his seat and looked out the window of Duo’s pickup truck as they drove away, not quite fast enough for Trowa’s liking. The temperature had dropped while he was in the store and Duo had the heat turned up.

“No you don’t. Who else would schlep you all over the place while you figure things out? I suggested Quat but…”

“No.” Trowa slashed his hand through the air.

Duo shrugged, “And that’s what you said.” He reached over and flipped on the radio, “Just so you know though, you’re not the only one with issues.” Then he cranked the sound up ending the conversation and leaving Trowa to his own stupid thoughts.

He’d called Duo because he didn’t know what else to do. He’d walked out of the tent with a duffle and nowhere to go and a very short list of people he actually knew outside the circus. Well, at least appropriate people for a so-called time of peace. He didn’t want to be a merc again, he was pretty sure. Though if anyone else tried to touch his hair, he might seriously consider it.

Trowa hadn’t heard from Heero since the end of the war. He knew Wufei had joined Preventers and figured he was far to busy dealing with his life let alone any shit Trowa might drag in. Quatre…well Trowa shied away from that thought, not ready to deal with it.

Of all the pilots, Trowa knew Duo the least, which made him the perfect person to call, really. He hadn’t blinked when Trowa explained his reason for calling, just nodded and said he’d be there in an hour.

Trowa was so deep in thoughts it was nearly dark before he tuned into what was playing on the radio. “Duo what are you listening to?”

Duo looked surprised, eyes flicking his way before looking back at the road, somewhere along the way it had started to snow making visibility difficult. “Christmas music. Didn’t you know?”

“It’s that time of year already?” Trowa pulled his phone out to check the date, “Huh.”

“You really need to get out more.”

Trowa flipped him off instead of answering but Duo just smirked. “Speaking of which, I got you a present.”

Duo pointed his chin towards the glove box and Trowa looked at him in surprise, “Why?” 

“It’s a Christmas present. You seemed like you needed it.”

Trowa didn’t think he liked the sound of that; it made him sound pathetic and clingy. He narrowed his eyes in irritation, “I seemed like I needed a present?”

“Nah. You seemed like you needed _that_ present.”

Trowa may not know Duo’s favorite food or even what he did in his free time, but he did know that Duo never did anything without a purpose. Even when it seemed like he was screwing around, there was always an endgame. Curious, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a flat small wrapped object, nothing more substantial than a piece of cardboard.

“Oh Duo, you shouldn’t have,” he drawled.

Duo snorted, “Just open it, asshole.”

There were very few times in his life when Trowa remembered receiving a present. A hazy memory of a wrapped package when he was a kid, a joke from one of the merc crew. He thought it had been a doll, maybe. There had been that computer assistant working for the doctor who’d had a crush on hi. She’d given him a scarf. He’d left it behind when took Heavyarms away to fight.

He turned the package in his hands, wondering what Duo could possibly have thought he _needed_ and then carefully pulled off the paper.

It was a photograph. The person in the photograph was sitting on a couch in front of a lit tree, arms crossed. He was smiling but there was a glint to his eye and the rest of his posture said he was done being patient. 

Trowa sucked in a breath. Quatre. He flipped the photo over and winced at the message on it. Then he gave a shaky laugh.

_I’ve given you space and I’ve given you time. For a while I thought maybe you just didn’t want to see me anymore. Now I just think you’re too scared. Come see me, please. Or I’ll be forced to come get you and kick your ass._

“Where did you get this?” Trowa couldn’t bring himself to put the photo down, but turned and stared at Duo who hadn’t looked away from the road.

“I may have taken some liberties.” He shrugged and tapped the steering wheel. “We’ll be at Quatre’s in a couple of hours, by the way. That’s the rest of the present.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go?” Trowa startled himself with the growl that came out of what he’d intended to be a mild question.

Duo slowed down and then pulled over, turning the flashers on and giving Trowa his full attention for the first time since they left the bookstore. “Look man, I get it. During the war things were different.”

He clenched his hands and then slowly opened them, showing Trowa his empty palms. “We had all this power and responsibility, we were on a rampage, taking on the world and _God damn_ was it a rush!”

He bared his teeth and his eyes flashed and Trowa suddenly remembered who he was sitting with and what Duo had been not too long ago. Deathscythe had not been designed like Heavyarms. It wasn’t a long-range machine, he fought close up and personal, hand-to-hand combat, with a slicing blade that cut down its opponents with direct intent.

He was a lot like Quatre in that way. A smile and kind demeanor masking a mind that was methodical and calculated. 

Duo smiled again and seemed to relax, “You gotta get out of your head.”

“I met him and everything changed.” Trowa hadn’t realized he said that outloud but Duo nodded, as if he understood.

“I don’t know if…” he swallowed and tried to articulate exactly what had been holding him back, “I don’t know if I’m someone he would like now.”

There. That was it; that was the truth. 

“He gave me a message for you.” Duo reached forward and tapped the photograph gently. “A person can’t hide who they truly are when they play music from their heart. I know who you are.”

Trowa swallowed and clutched the photo tighter, wondering if it was that easy.

“It won’t be easy.” 

Trowa started and Duo shrugged, giving him a small smile. “You’re not the first person to have some doubts.” His eyes grew distant and he stared out at the falling snow, “But some people are meant to be together, they just fit. Without them you feel like something is missing, an itch that won’t go away.” He laughed and slid back over to put the truck in gear. “It’s like you keep trying to turn to talk to them but nobody is there. That’s how you know it could work.”

Trowa didn’t know how to respond, he sensed that Duo was talking about himself and it felt deeply personal. He couldn’t help wondering whom Duo was thinking about and clearly missing.

“So you’re saying I should stop whining, put my big girl panties on and man up?” Trowa grinned and carefully wrapped up the photo before tucking in his jacket pocket.

Duo laughed, “More or less.”

Trowa didn’t know if things would work out between him and Quatre, but it felt good knowing that he was expected to try. And he hadn’t failed at anything he’d set his mind to yet.

There was just one thing still bothering him, he couldn’t shake.

“Duo?” Trowa finally broke the silence, fifty miles further down the road.

“Hmm?”

“What’s a hipster?”


End file.
